Those Things You Do
by YoungMarie
Summary: Claire learns that divorce doesn't really fix anything. Claire and Josh: getting together, getting divorced, and getting remarried. We're tumultuous, babe, but those things you do. . . T for some light sexual content, swearing. *Now Complete!
1. When We've Torn Everything Down

Hey! New story in the works - this time it's Closh! A little Clam in some parts, but it is a Closh-based story. I hope everyone enjoys it.

I do not own The Clique, it's settings, or divorce. I DO own the storyline, though.

**Important note about the dates you will be seeing in this story: I am in the class of 2013. I wrote the timeline pretending that Claire and Josh were, too. That is how the dates were decided. They may seem far out and unrealistic at first, but they DO make sense.**

Pay attention to the dates and years or you WILL BE CONFUSED!

Okay. We're done.

* * *

_**December 12, 2021**_

"You both agree to the terms of the divorce?"

Claire pursed her lips for a split second, forcing back any hesitation she may have had. This was over, done with. The man raised his eyebrows and held his hand firmly on the divorce papers, awaiting confirmation. The heat was blasting in this room and the chair was uncomfortable. She blinked.

She suddenly let her lips part slightly and cleared her throat. "Of course." Of _course._

It was important that she make it clear she was okay with this before Josh did. _She_ was the one who wanted this. Josh screwed up a hundred times and she was sick of it. They were getting divorced, and that hurt, but this was over. They were over.

Josh was quiet next to her, fidgeting slightly. The leather of his chair squeaked softly. This made Claire want to scream, but instead she just turned and stared at him. It was second nature, staring at him, picking apart his flaws. That's all she had seemed to do in the last few months of their marriage.

His hand was covering his eyes. He looked _so_ tired. His hair needed cutting. His eyes were dull. His suit was new. When did he go suit-shopping? Who does that in the face of divorce? _God. _He _would_ do that. "Hey, I'm getting a divorce, better buy a new suit!" Jesus.

"Sure," he mumbled. The man across from them looked skeptical. Clare stared at his unibrow, his slightly-yellowed teeth, and his dull eyes. Gross. She needed to get out of here. The room smelled stale and she felt dizzy. She needed a drink. She needed Josh to hurry the fuck up and just sign the goddamn papers. There was a Manhattan bar and a Long Island iced tea waiting for her. She felt her throat get tighter just thinking about the drink.

"'Sure' doesn't quite cut it, Mr. Hotz," the man explained. "You are signing away half of your assets. Before you put your signature on these papers, I need to know that you are completely sure and serious about this decision."

"Yes, I agree," Josh said irritatedly as he pulled the papers toward himself and practically engraved his signature on the dotted line. Claire waited patiently before signing her name in her loopy script. This was success. This was victory.

"There you go," Mr. Greenbow said with a tiny, pity-laced smile. "It's official."

She was gone before he even finished. Her heels click-clacked and she didn't turn around, or say goodbye.

Claire Lyons is twenty-six, and she just got divorced.

* * *

_**October 21, 2016**_

Josh Hotz did not expect to see Claire Lyons in the bedroom at that party - he hadn't expected anyone. All he knew was that his now ex-girlfriend, Alicia Rivera, was on a crazy rampage for his blood and he needed a place to lay low. He hated admitting that he was scared of someone like Alicia, but. . . he was.

So when he opens the door and slams it quickly, breathing rather heavily, he's fairly surprised to hear the sniffles.

"Hello?" he asks shakily. He feels paranoid, like this is one of those horror movies where the murderer knows exactly where you're going and beats you there. Like, The Strangers, or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. "Who is it?" He's anxious, and his palms are sweaty.

"Josh? Is that you?" He doesn't think that it's Alicia; the voice is too soft. It doesn't have her anger, or her venom. Still, he's cautious.

"Uh . . . "

"It's Claire." She sniffs again, loudly, and then he can see her bright, platinum blonde hair, even though it's pitch black.

"Why are you in here?" he asks, not meaning to sound rude, but genuinely confused. "Cam is looking for you . . . "

"Ohmigod," she says then, and he can see her wipe her eyes. "He wasn't coming this way, was he?"

Josh shrugged. "I don't think so. He was pissed, though."

"I know." She takes a deep breath and seems sort of reassured.

The silence is irritating, as now Josh is dying to know why Claire's longtime boyfriend is pissed off and why she's hiding from him.

"You wanna know why I'm riding out the storm in this bedroom, right?" She wipes her nose again and sighs.

"Kinda." He decides to be honest - why not? He can only hope the story is halfway entertaining.

"Well me and Cam have been together for like ever, you know?"

"Like, since seventh grade."

"Right. And, uh, he proposed to me, at this really nice restaurant in Soho and I, uh, said no."

She says the rest in a rush, like if she doesn't she won't get all the words out, like she's racing her voice. He is shocked, and unafraid to show it. Cam is an egotistical loser who seems like a charmer because he's so "sensitive". Good for her. Josh can only wonder how big the ring was.

"Why? You guys are like the perfect couple." Josh feels stupid saying that, he really does, because obviously something was wrong if she said no to marriage.

"I - I just couldn't. He's great, really, but I think I'm just staying with him because it's comfortable, you know? I don't think I really love him anymore. Anyway, Massie told me to come down here and see some people, to feel better, but Cam followed and Massie left so I'm hiding." She sounds so small and pathetic at the end of her little speech that Josh sits on the floor next to her, leaning against the bed. She lays her head down and lets out a loud sob.

"I f-f-feel so baaaad!" she wails. Josh rapidly shushed her, gripped once again with the fear of Alicia finding him.

"And you're hiding, too, aren't you," she says, quieter than before, trying to bring down the all-out cryfest.

"Well, not really-"

"Josh, Alicia already told me she was looking for you, okay?"

He's quiet again, breathing slowly. God, this is fucked up. Alicia is crazy.

"Yeah, she's really mad." He realizes this is an understatement.

"She wants to kill you, huh?" Claire asks. Josh laughs, but it isn't really funny, probably because it's true.

"Yeah, she does."

"Why?"

He pauses. Claire is sensitive. She's one of those girls who wouldn't get it, right?

Then he remembers that he's never cared about pissing off a chick before and thinks, 'fuck it'.

"She's been dropping hints lately . . . like telling me her ring size, and leaving these Tiffany ads all over my dorm. So tonight I took her out and I was gonna dump her, but she thought I was gonna . . . "

"Oh my god, she thought you were ready to propose."

Claire sounds more surprised than horrified, so he feels okay.

"And I didn't, so she's the devil right now."

They sit there, taking in their stories for a while.

"We both ruined the futures of out significant others, didn't we?" Claire says, and then starts to laugh.

No, she's really laughing. The tears are coming again, but this time she lets them roll down her cheeks and laughs harder. Josh starts shushing her and then he's laughing too. She buries her face in his chest, attempting to muffle her giggles, but it's still pretty loud.

At around three in the morning, they both finally have the balls to sneak out of the door. Most of the people are gone - there's a topless girl on the couch and three guys passed out at her feet. The music is softer and the floor seems to have permanently taken on the style of "spilled margarita". Claire giggles again as they step over coffee tables and lamps.

He walks her back to her dorm and then makes his way over to his own. Before he falls asleep to the sound of Derrick Harrington's snoring, all he can think is that he might be a little bit in love with Claire Lyons. Which is so not a part of his plan.


	2. Fill in the Missing Colors

New chapter! I really like how this story is going, what do you think?

I own nothing. I can't really stress this enough. I work as a receptionist at a salon and go to high school. My parents pay for pretty much everything I have.

* * *

_**December 12, 2021**_

"Hey sweetie. How are you?"

Claire looks around at the bar for a second and then just decides that it's Massie, so there is no chance of lying. "I signed the divorce papers an hour ago." She says it all as clearly as she can into the phone so Massie can't tell she's already slurring. Oh course, Massie can always tell, just the same way that Claire can always tell with Massie.

"I know. Where are you? I'll come over."

Okay, so Claire has to admit it: she isn't completely sure where she is. She left the attorney's office with a mission set, but she can't remember where she decided to go or when she decided to come to this bar. She can't exactly tell where she went.

"Give me to the bartender, Claire," Massie says soothingly. Claire looks at the bartender expectantly, and holds out her cell. He takes it. She hates herself for doing this, she really does. She can only hope that Josh feels worse.

"Manhattan. The one on 25th avenue. I'll tell her." He hangs up and hands Claire the phone. "She says you're supposed to call her _before_ you get drunk."

Claire smiles softly and looks down into her drink. It's probably the best Long Island Iced Tea she's ever had. Maybe it just tastes better because of the divorce. Or maybe Kevin, the bartender, is a genius. She smiles up at him. Yeah, it's definitely because of the divorce. Kind of like how when you're hungry, everything tastes better: when you're sad, drinks slide down the throat easier.

"You're cut off," he says in that decisive way that she hates.

"No. Cut me off when Massie tells you to. Otherwise I'm good." Massie can always tell when it's time. Claire downs the rest of her drink, looks at him with pleading eyes.

He licks his lips and hands her another, tapping his finger on the tip jar as he pulls his hand away. So this is how it's gonna go down. She digs in her purse for a long time and pulls out a crumpled twenty and slips it into the jar. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and then goes to take care of another customer.

Just as she's halfway done with the tea a guy next to her puts his hand on her arm. She pulls away. His fingers grip a little too hard and his touch is too unfamiliar. If she had better balance, she would punch him for touching her.

"Whoa, little lady. I just wanna know your name," he says. He talks like he's from the south, all charm and small-town sweetness.

"It's 'fuck off'," Claire spits. "What's yours?"

"Geez, just tryin' to be friendly," he glares and looks somewhere behind her. "Tell your friend to settle down," he says to someone else, and Claire turns and sees Massie. Massie sits down and gives the guy the finger, who slides down a few stools to expand the distance between them. Claire giggles.

"Hey." Massie leans in for a hug and takes a deep sniff. "She's cut off," she says loudly enough to Kevin to hear. He nods towards them and than continues his conversation with another patron.

"It's only been an hour or so," Claire complains, once again trying really hard to talk like she's sober, but she's nodding too much and her eyes are having trouble focusing.

"Yeah? That doesn't change the fact that you're plastered," Massie says and Claire shakes her head because Massie always sounds so disappointed at times like this. It makes Claire feel like shit.

"I just got divorced. If I need to get properly drunk I'll just leave," Claire says and she feels angry, angry at the whole world. Or maybe just Josh. Or the guy next to her, or Kevin for cutting her off. She isn't sure, but she's done with this place. She's sick of being angry and she's sick of thinking about the divorce. She's really tired. She needs to go to sleep, but she too mad now so she tries to walk away from Massie.

"Now, now," Massie murmurs and pulls Claire back to the barstool. Claire falls back on to it and wobbles slightly. She is drunk. "I didn't mean to make you feel worse. But this is only going to amount to a really bad hangover in the morning." She pulls a water over that Kevin just set down and slides it towards Claire, who downs half of it just to please her friend. God, she's thirsty.

"I know. But I just..." She trails off because she's going to start crying, and she wonders if it's possible to get to flat-out weepy drunk in a little under an hour. Massie rubs her back. She slides off her ring, that stupid ring, and slaps it down on the bar. "Put it somewhere. I don't wanna see it," she whimpers and lays her head down on the bar. God, it already hurts. Everything just sort of hurts and she's so tired.

"What do you want me to do with it?" Massie asks but takes it and puts it in her pocket anyway. The ring catches the light just as it disappears in Massie's pocket, and Claire doesn't think she'll ever forget it. That last glimmer, that last, screaming sparkle she saw in the ring just before it disappeared from her life completely.

"I don't know. Send it to his mother. Pawn it. Thrown it into the Hudson. I don't care."

They sit like that for a while, with Massie rubbing her back and her crying all over the bar and Kevin sets water after water in front of her.

"I think she's ready for an aspirin." He nods and dives under, finally handing her a little pill. Massie smiles and holds it between her manicured fingers, offering it to Claire.

"That's a strong one. Don't take another 'til morning," he advises. Massie nods and coaxes Claire into swallowing it. God, stupid divorce. Stupid Josh. Stupid, stupid, stupid New York and alcohol and headaches. She just wants to sleep and cry. Thankfully Massie has gotten her to stand up and is leading her outside, where she flags down a cab and they pile in. It's snowing.

It's December, and it's New York, so everything is beautiful and she can see all the wreaths and lights up in the city. She hates how it's all so beautiful, and she just got a divorce. The world isn't allowed to look pretty when she's so bad.

"You're coming to my place, okay? Didn't you take some time off?" Massie asks. Claire nods and starts bobbing her head to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin". Massie sings along softly and they ride to Massie's apartment together, Claire staring out the window at all the beautiful things and crying. The tears swim down her face, marking her for all eternity.

Claire Lyons it twenty-six years old, drunk, and she just got a divorce.

_**May 2, 2017**_

Josh finally asked Claire out months later, after one of her early classes. She was still groggy from sleep, when he'd intercepted her on the way back to her apartment for a quick snooze. Her hair was a little messy and tangled, in a high ponytail-bun thing. Her eyes weren't completely open and she carried a blue messenger back, slung over her shoulder, filled with giant, expensive textbooks. The air was filled with a sort of melancholy lightness. Graduation was in a few weeks, and everyone was posing for pictures, picking out outfits, getting numbers and talking about getting together after they all get jobs.

Josh and Claire have talked quite a bit since the night they broke up with Alicia and Cam. It was mostly a therapy thing. He needed someone to talk to about it and she needed someone to help her remember to do her laundry. Otherwise, she totally forgets.

"Hey!" he said and she smiled at him, her eyes all lighting up at once. He can see her teeth, white against her red lips.

"Hi," she says, really softly but happily. He feels his throat getting dry and swallows.

"Um, so I was wondering if you would go out sometime? With me?" He looks down, kicks a pebble, feels like a dork. She nods. He can see her hair catching the bright sun in his peripheral vision.

"Sure. What did you have in mind?" Her eyes are inquiring, but he knows she has her own ideas.

"Whatever. We could do the classic dinner and a movie, or we could just..." He shrugs.

"We could just get some good pizza, if you want," she says. "Also, I've never gotten to do the whole "New York Tourist" thing, so-"

"Yeah! Let's do that. Um, I'll be at your place then. Friday, six or so."

"Sure."

"Okay."

He stands in the same place for a long time, watching her walk back to her dorm.

_**May 5, 2017**_

She's wearing worn, distressed looking jeans that frame that perfect ass all too well. Her hair is down and shimmers under the lights of the city, and her shoes are red Chuck Taylors. He can see that her lips and shiny and her hands are calloused, rough. She says it's from her major, photography.

They walk around for a long time. Her legs are long and she walks beautifully, showcasing every line, every muscle. He stares. She shows him her favorite pizza place and they pass few groups of giant families, decked out in their t-shirts and disposable cameras.

"Oh, man. I totally forgot . . ." Claire pouts a little. Josh raises his eyebrows. She looks so cute.

"What?"

"Well, we said we would do the tourist thing... But I forgot a fanny pack." She tries to pout some more but lets out a laugh instead. He threads all his fingers through hers and laughs with her. She's beautiful and funny and he loves her. She's been counting the stereotypical tourists all night, and so far has gotten twenty-two. She finds this hilarious.

"I also count mullets in Wal-Mart," she says at one point and he busts out laughing.

They make it to The Met, with it's long, wide row of steps, where she squeals. "Oh, I'm gonna be just like Rocky!" She starts running up the stairs at a frenzied pace, laughing like a crazy person. He can hear her yelling out the theme song of the Rocky Balboa boxing movies. Da-naaa-na, na-na-naaaa.. . .

"That was in Philly!" He yells up but she apparently doesn't care, or something, because she's still running. He starts walking up them to meet her at the top.

When he gets there, she's three steps from the very top, panting. "I can't go on," she says and giggles, but doesn't move. The steps to the Met aren't even very high; Josh doesn't know why she's stopped. But she's sitting there with her cheeks flushed and her breath puffing out in short bursts and so he doesn't say anything. He rests just two steps lower than her. Her legs are stretched out; the tip of her Chuck Taylors touches his knee. His head is buzzing. They are exactly in the middle of the steps. The moon is high and very yellow in the sky.

He looks up. Her cheeks and pink and she looks happy, like this is all it takes for her to find bliss.

Then she slides down the two steps to him and kisses him on the lips. Her hair tickles his cheek and he can feel her smiling against his lips.

The kiss is soft and lasts a second. It's fleeting, like a whisper, or a secret, and paints his lips with her breathless, vibrant soul.

* * *

First kisses are so cute! Reviews are appreciated. Also, I will be posting the "Rocky" video link on my profile, along with a pic of The Met, so you guys can picture that scene a little easier. Thanks for reading!


	3. In Our PaintByNumber Dreams

God, I love this chapter. I hope you guys like it too(:

I don't own The Clique. Just in case you thought I did.

_**

* * *

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_**Decemeber 17, 2021**_

"So I heard about the divorce. Totally sucks."

Claire Lyons was getting ready for work, now that she was finally returning after a weeklong break. She did not feel like talking to Alicia Rivera on her cell phone, but she was too nice to tell the bitch to get a life.

Okay, so Alicia wasn't really a bitch anymore. She was kind of a slut, at times, but Claire wasn't really bothered by her any more. The first month or so that Claire and Josh dated, she'd send them both hateful text messages, but that was way behind them.

Not that Alicia was any better at sympathy. Claire sighed heavily into the phone and tried to formulate an answer to Alicia's insensitive comment. She was having trouble focusing on that and her giant, intimidating closet.

"Thanks. And it does suck. But I'm doing good." There, that wasn't mean, was it? But it wasn't really nice. Exactly how Claire and Alicia had communicated since they met.

Alicia was quiet on the other end. Then Claire heard her talking to someone else in the background for a few seconds. Probably that sexy Calvin Klein model she was dating. Mmm. Claire could use one of those.

"Hey, me and Dylan were gonna go for drinks one of these nights. I'll call ya, okay?"

This genuinely surprised Claire. Alicia was not mean to her, but she also hadn't invited Claire anywhere in a long time. It was nice. Maybe her life was headed in a better direction.

"Okay," Claire agreed and hung up, once again surveying her closet. What to wear?

She was invited to do a shoot with the Victoria's Secret models in a winter setting and was really excited. She had planned on not working until New Years was over, but had said yes immediately. She was unbelievably excited. These girls were famous, talented, and the money would be dazzling. This would be beyond awesome for her already flourishing career. She just couldn't decide what to wear, though. It had to be stylish, yet comfortable. And new. And expensive. She picked up her dark wash skinny Hudsons and her bright pink Converse shoes. These would have to do. She slipped on her favorite beret, making her feel wonderful and whimsical and Euro. Maybe she could work the casual-cute-french photographer look. Yeah, she could. Be confident! Massie had always told her. Claire had always been good at listening.

Her top was black and ruffled, very tight but the fabric was soft and stretchy. It felt nice against her skin.

She took a picture and sent it to Massie, for some confirmation. She wasn't twelve anymore, but she still sometimes liked her best friend's advice.

**Ugh. Love the beret and the skinny hudsons. Are the shoes necessary?**

Claire rolled her eyes. She knew Massie wasn't a Converse person, but she didn't care. The shoes were her favorite and comfortable. Massie and her would always butt heads, no matter what, when it came to some of Claire's tastes.

**Suck it **Claire sent.

**You first! **Massie texted back.

They went back and forth on this for the next forty-five minutes as Claire got ready, putting on her makeup and making sure the beret was secure with a few bobby pins. She couldn't have it falling out today at the studio.

As she gave herself a final appraisal in the mirror, she smiled. Yes, she could work this. She was ready. She looked down at her bare ring finger and then sighed. When she was nervous, she used to twirl her wedding ring in errant circles. She hadn't even realized how often she did it until the ring wasn't there. Now she felt bare. She'd found herself reaching down and pinching skin, suddenly wishing something, anything, was there, for her to grab and hold on to.

She quickly walked over to her bureau and pulled out an emerald ring, one that Cam Fisher had given her years ago. She slipped in on her right hand and immediately being twirling it around her finger. Okay, so she was a little nervous about the shoot. But how bad could it be? She was good at her job, and obviously they wanted her or they wouldn't have asked.

Claire then looked out her window and sighed. It was still snowing. She kicked off her shoes and put on some Uggs, then pulled on her long, white, faux-fur D&G winter coat. There. Now she was ready for the winter weather.

She texted one last picture to Massie, who answered back with a myriad of smiley faces and exclamation points, then slipped outside of her apartment for a cab. Thankfully, there was one right outside.

She hadn't had anything alcoholic to drink since the day she signed the divorce papers, a week ago, and hoped this day would go well enough so that she wouldn't feel the need for one tonight. She was tired of feeling sick and lonely in crowded bars. She was sick of being lonely, period. She'd been lonely, for a long time, since way before the divorce had even been official.

_God, Josh_, she thought to herself once more. _Why did you have to screw up so badly? We could have worked it out, you know, but you took it too far. I couldn't fix our relationship after that._

She couldn't fix their relationship, that was true, but it was also true that Josh hadn't even really tried.

As she got out of the cab and paid the driver generously, she could only stare at the studio that awaited her. It was nondescript. From the outside, nobody could tell it was where photography for the world's hottest labels was done. They probably preferred it that way. She shivered and tilted her head all the way back, trying to get a glimpse of the top. It was huge. She'd received a phone call that said she'd be on the fifteenth floor. All she had to say was "Victoria's shoot" and she'd be ushered to where she was supposed to be, given equipment provided by the company, and handed free-reign of the complete shoot. She felt her fingertips tingle from excitement . . . or maybe it was the cold. She didn't care.

Claire adjusted her beret and did a quick hand-mirror check for mascara clumps or messy lip gloss. When she was finally satisfied, she confidently walked through the giant, glass doors. She kept herself from twirling her emerald ring and didn't smile at the lady at the front desk. That was what Massie would tell her to do.

* * *

_**June 15, 2017**_

It's been over a month, and they've been doing this weird little dance. Kissing and flirting, joking and teasing, but not sex. Never sex.

So when Claire finds herself pushed up against the door of her apartment, Josh's tongue trailing against the rim of her ear, the only thought she's able to think is _finally_.

She moans loudly and he covers her mouth with his, laughing and shushing her. She has momentarily forgotten that she lives in an apartment building, and that her neighbors will complain about her if they wake up to her loud moaning at two in the morning.

They've been out dancing to Arcade Fire in Central Park, and she's sweaty from the dancing and the foreplay that Josh is currently engaging himself in. She brings up her hands, one around his neck and the other on his face, cradling his sharp jawbone. His hand rubs weird circles on her collarbone. His lips leave hers and he's making her head fall back because his mouth is on this special, certain place on her neck that Cam never seemed to find.

"Let's get inside . . . the key is somewhere . . ." She's frustrated, because she had to turn away from his wonderful kissing and tongue and lips and smile, and her key seems to be hiding in her tiny clutch. "Damn," she whispers. Finally his hand dips in her purse and he pulls out her key, already knowing which one opens up her door. They fall inside and she realizes that her dress is already unzipped. How he did that without her noticing, she doesn't know, but he's making her bend backward over the couch and pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders.

Claire's head is a jumble of breathless thoughts and her hands are fumbling, nervous, shaking, while she tries to pull his shirt over his head. He smiles against her lips and chuckles, a whoosh of air coming over her lips. She can feel his hardness against her thigh and it makes it difficult for her to breathe. She pulls him into her on the couch and then he stands up.

"What?" she asks once, in one breath, but Josh has already picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other, under her head. She's being taken down the hall to her little bedroom. He places her on her bed, in nothing but her bra, her panties, and her heels. She kicks them off and watches him undress.

Josh is a work of art. She stares at the lines on his chest, how his muscles ripple on his back and his shoulders, so big and broad. His legs are long and lean and strong. When he gets on her bed, the lamplight illuminating his eyes, his arms, his chest, his hair, she feels herself stirring. She feels need, and want, and _urgency_. She wants him, all of him, right now, so much that she can't stand it.

He takes his time undoing her bra, and even more hooking his thumbs on the lace of her panties, pulling them down slowly. His fingers trail down her legs, reaching her ankles, pulling the panties completely off. She's fully naked now, in front of him, light splashing across her breasts. He openly stares, and she squirms in front of his gaze, partially from her own insecurities, but mostly from her arousal.

"Josh . . ." she moans softly, her voice a little higher than usual. He comes out of his trance.

He doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful than her.

Her hair is spread around her head and her skin is smooth and soft. When he pulled off her panties, she looked at him with eyes that showed trust, and love.

And _god_, when she said his name. He doesn't think he's ever heard a voice as beautiful, or his name said in such a way that made him want to cry and laugh and love all at the same time.

"Yeah?" he asks, not failing to notice that his voice is husky and quiet. He just wants her, so much. He leans down and kisses her deeply before she can answer. She pulls away, gasping and licking her lips.

"I want . . . I need . . . " she says, unable to really get the words out because she's never done it like this before. It was just her and Cam, and the first time had been unsteady and scary. She doesn't really know how this sort of thing goes.

He smiles, because he knows, and he's on top of her and he has his lips on her left nipple and she's grabbing the sheets with tight fingers, because she feels like she's going to float away in the next second.

He pushes inside of her then, agonizingly slowly. His strokes are long at first, because he can hardly believe he's made it this far and it feels so good, so amazing, and he never thought, once, that his dreams could even get this wonderful.

Soon his thrusts become more urgent, more needing. She's reaching up and grasping the headboard of her bed, clutching at the sheets. Moaning, louder and louder.

She surrenders to sweet release, riding out her climax, calling out his name with his lips on her throat while he's pushed inside of her. He comes right after she does, shuddering, his teeth biting on her bottom lip. Her moan is a hum that throttles the core of his chest.

He lays next to her, breathing deeply. She pants against his chest. They are one, breathing, panting, hearts beating the same fast rhythm, a sheen of sweat on both forheads, her bangs sweaty. Her hands are in his hair, his fingers loose on her shoulders.

They fall asleep, his head on her stomach, using it as a pillow, with the lamp still on.

* * *

_**August 20, 2017**_

It's one in the morning and Claire is wide awake.

She's in some obscure, Manhattan bar that Josh dragged her to with some of his friends. She'd wanted Massie to come but she was busy with some guy that she met at one of her mother's parties. Claire's sipping at a Long-Island Iced Tea and Josh is sitting at the bar with Derrick. Their talking about something or another, baseball or football or some kind of ball, Claire doesn't really care.

She and Kemp are playing pool. He's really drunk, just at the point of stumbling, and having to squint at the balls for a long time before taking a shot. He keeps losing, but then placing bets. Claire has taken about fifty bucks from him so far.

Josh keeps looking over when she's not paying attention and staring. She keeps looking back and catching him, but he just smiles and turns back to whatever Derrick is saying.

"Your turn," Kemp says loudly, impatient, and she takes another shot. The white ball hits her stripe, knocks it near the hole. Kemp grumbles.

She sucks, really, but Kemp is so drunk that she couldn't resist playing him.

Ten minutes later and she's won, again. Claire walks back tot he bar and takes a seat next to Josh. Derrick just left, something about work in the morning, even though it's Friday. Kemp's yelling after her.

"I think he still wants to play," Josh says softly in her ear. She giggles and takes a sip from his beer because her drink is gone.

"I should really stop taking advantage of him," she says. Josh's hand is on her knee and his eyes aren't meeting hers; it makes her nervous.

He fidgets and squeezes her knee, which he knows makes her jump, and she pushes his hand away, giggling again. "What's up?" she asks.

He looks up, matching her uneasy smile. "We're, um, exclusive, right?"

She narrows her eyes. They've been sleeping together since mid-June, doing this slow, young dating thing . . . she thought they were exclusive. They damn well _should _be.

"I thought we were," she says, and her voice is soft and pathetic. Was he seeing other girls?

Josh catches on quick and takes her hand in his, kissing her cheek. "No, Claire, I just meant . . . we should be. I just wanted to make sure. I'm not seeing anyone else. Really."

She looks up. He looks so desperate and sad and pleading. She smiles. "Well, in that case, Josh Hotz . . . you're my one and only." Oh, God, now she's teasing him, with that little smile and glint in her eye. He's the one who's laying his heart out on the bar and asking her to be his official girlfriend, and she's teasing him.

"You deserve to be punished for that, Missy," he whispers in her ear and she stops giggling, instead watching his eyes eagerly, her vision dropping down to his lips. She swallows.

He leans in and kisses her, biting her bottom lip just hard enough, bringing a full moan from deep in her throat. Kemp is next to them, staring off into space, oblivious.

Josh pulls away suddenly. "I love you," he whispers. She can hear the song "Pretty Woman" playing in the background, the toe of her Converse tapping away out of instinct. He slides off the stool, saying something about getting Kemp home and she follows with a grin.

He's said the L word before, but for some reason, in this bar, she knows he really, really means it.

* * *

Reviews are appreciated!

Also, should it be moved to an M rating? I didn't think the sex scene was that intense, but you guys can be the judges.


	4. Oh, thee Paper Thin Strips of Ecstasy

Wow. Loved the, uh, one review I got for the last chapter. Awesome. Really. I'm glad I'm writing this.

I own nothing . . .

And I have to give credit to the last two chapter titles: they were taken and inspired by the Jackson Brown song, _The Pretender_. "And we'll fill in the missing colors/In each other's paint-by-number dreams."

Good song. Aaaand enjoy.

* * *

_**December 21, 2021**_

"So I tell him, 'This isn't wrong! We can make it professional.'"

"You can make it professional? You really said that, Leesh?"

"Uh, yeah . . . it was the only thing I could think of at the time. Anyway, it got him to have sex with me. So I think I succeeded."

"Alicia, you could have said anything and he would have had sex with you by the end of the night. It's called patience."

Claire giggled and took a sip of her Long Island Iced Tea, smiling along with her friends. It was a girls night out, something they the five of them hadn't done in a long time. Alicia was telling them about her recent escapades involving getting her new limo driver/assistant/chef/fill-in-the-blank to sleep with her. It was a regular thing, but Claire still loved to hear about it. Alicia's way of living and dating was so much different than her own it was like watching a movie, not real life.

It had been four days since the Victoria's Secret shoot. It had been amazing; a few of the models had even told her that it was an honor to meet her and gave her their info so she could call them for any other jobs. It was scary and exhilarating all at the same time. She hadn't been able to properly focus on her career in a long time, it felt like. Of course, that was all that Josh had ever paid any attention to, ever. She felt like she was getting back in the fast lane, back in the zone, being successful. When Dylan had called and said that they were having a party to celebrate her being single and Kristen's nearing due date, she'd jumped at the chance.

Claire hated to admit it, but she was nervous about entering the dating scene again. It wasn't something she was really prepared to do. She'd only had two boyfriends in her whole life, and both had been serious. She didn't even really know anything about the dating scene.

She scanned the bar, half-listening as Massie went on about recent business dealings and Kristen went on about pregnancy pains. It was then that she saw him.

He was sitting at the bar, laughing it up with Chris Plovert. God, she hadn't seen him in a while. He looked good.

She was thoroughly buzzed from the alcohol. Not drunk, but perfectly bubbly and content. She couldn't really make it out from all the way across the room, but she knew what he looked like from sheer memory. She knew all his lines, all his smiles, all his laughs, all his frowns and winks and the way he bit his lip when he was trying to hide something. She memorized them back in seventh grade. She'd learned every inch of his body as she stumbled into adulthood. She'd grown up with him alongside her. He was like a part of her, instinct, a piece of her senses.

She knew that one eye was blue and the other was green.

He had proposed to her, way back in college. She had said no.

What Claire didn't notice was Kristen, who had seen Cam too. She didn't see Kristen jab Massie's ribs with her elbow, motioning towards Claire, who was staring at Cam. Okay, staring was the wrong word. She was simply observing. There was nothing wrong with that. Her and Cam had dated for literally nine years, she had the right to look at him when she spotted him in a crowded bar.

"So are we ready to go? I am," Massie said hurriedly, trying to tell everyone with her eyes that they had a slight emergency on their hands. The girls all quieted as Massie tapped Claire's shoulder.

"Claire? Honey, we're going," she said quickly. Claire's attention was suddenly diverted by her friends.

"Oh, I think I'm gonna stay for a while," she mumbled as she slid off her chair and made her way to the bar. Massie quickly chased her, pulling Claire back by the arm.

"Claire, this is a bad idea. Just leave Cam Fisher be. Let's go to my place, 'kay?"

Claire turned in annoyance. "You don't have to protect me, Mass. I've had one drink. Saying hi to Cam won't hurt anything." She wanted to believe that, and she did. She was an adult and responsible for herself.

And with that, Claire pulled away and casually walked up to the bar, signaling for another drink and sliding onto the stool next to Cam. He turned and saw her, taking a second to realize who she was. She could help but smile at his blatant shock.

"Claire Hotz. Or should I say, the new and improved Claire Lyons! How have you been?" His smile is easy and carefree.

Claire took a deep breath at Cam's bold introduction. Then she smiled. Maybe he was right. Maybe she _was_ new and improved since the divorce. No, scratch that, of course he was right. She was ten times better, now that she was single.

"I've been good. Actually, great. And you?" She suddenly feels a sort of cocky confidence swelling up inside her, like she can say anything and get away with it. Cam is just so familiar she doesn't feel like she can do wrong.

Cam smiles and now she can see, even in the dim light, his blue eye and green eye. She always loved those eyes. Different from the rest of the world, those eyes.

Cam is easy to fold into. She doesn't even have to predict what will happen or what he'll do; she just knows. Like a song she's heard five-hundred thousand times. Maybe she's a little sick of it, but she knows every beat and pause and word and breath. It's just easier. Effortless.

The girls have left, and it bothers her because Massie was so worried about her. Massie is always worried about her, though. But really, what was so wrong about talking to Cam again? He was a nice guy. Sure, things between them didn't really end ideally, but that was life. If everything was ideal, nothing would end.

After her third drink she's laughing a little louder and picking out her own music at the jukebox. She doesn't notice Cam's hand on her knee, or the way he danced really close when she ran onto the dance floor, declaring "This is my jam!" because "Pour Some Sugar on Me" came on. She doesn't notice these things, or maybe she does but she doesn't really care, or she doesn't want to care. Cam is just Cam, and she doesn't have to think which seems good at this point. She can close her eyes and not be worried.

Later, way later, possible wee hours of the morning later, she's leaning against the outside of the bar, her back pressing against the cold brick. Cam is kissing her lips, and she wants to laugh because literally nothing has changed about the way he kisses.

Then Cam groans and presses his lips harder against hers and for one, fleeting second, she can see Josh in her head, his brown eyes and his smile and his slightly darkened skin and his hair. She squeezes her eyes tighter and tries to block him out, but then she can see her wedding ring right before Massie put it in her pocket; the last, fleeting sparkle it gave before it disappeared. It plays over and over in her head; handing Massie her ring, telling Massie to do whatever she wanted with it, and that last, screaming flash that glinted off the diamond.

God, all Claire wants is to forget about everything but this kiss, right now, but she can't.

She molds her body against Cam's and lets his tongue into her mouth and that's enough.

Really, it is.

* * *

_**January 1, 2019**_

Claire blinked wearily at the sunlight streaming in through her window and tried to fall back asleep.

It was New Years Day. Last night, Claire and Josh had danced at Massie's until sweat streamed down her back and his hair was soaked. Now it was morning. The sun shined in and made her white sheets seem even whiter. She snuggled in deeper among the white, her blonde hair tousled and messy. She was completely naked. Upon arriving at her apartment last night, Josh and her had spent hours having hot, steamy, sex. She was a little sore and still majorly tired.

It was then that she heard a tiny click. And then another. Wearily, she opened her eyes.

Josh was sitting on top of the covers, clad in only his boxers. He had her tiny, digital Elph between his hands. She pulled the blanket over her face as he snapped another picture.

"Aww, Claire, lemme get another photo of you."

"Nuh-uh. I'm naked, Joshua Hotz."

He yanked the blanket down and caught another picture while she squealed. "Why should that matter? You're so pretty when you're naked."

"Do you mind telling me why you insist of taking pictures of me while I'm in bed?"

He set the camera on the nightstand and laid next to her, snuggling under the covers. He pressed his freezing toes against her calves and she squealed.

"Josh! That's _cold_."

"I know. Sorry." He laughed and then reached over her to grab the camera again. She giggled. He pressed his cold toes against her and she squealed again.

Just at that moment, he snapped another picture.

"Poor Claire, so cold. Claire a la mode."

"A la mode?"

"It means with ice cream. Right?"

"How would I know?"

"You know everything, Claire." He snapped another photo, this one of both of them, faces together as she faced him. "I'll name this one, 'Me with Genius'."

"Right. Genius. You are such a dork, Josh." She pulls the sheet over them both, so it's just him and her and white, white, covering them and everything else. They are encased in a tiny white capsule of body heat and giggles and her camera. He takes a picture of them now.

"Claire and Josh and Cloud," he says and she can't help it, she laughs even more. She closes her eyes and sighs. Josh shakes her.

"You have to stay awake. I have something to show you. Open your eyes."

She opens them and he reaches out of their little sheet cocoon, then turns back to her while holding his hand behind his back.

"Close you eyes!"

"You_ just_ told me to open them."

"Well, now I'm telling you to close them. Please!" He smiles and she can't not listen to him. She closes them.

She feels as he lifts her left hand, kissing each of her knuckles. Then she feels something slide onto her ring-finger.

"Open."

She already knows what's going on before she sees the ring on her finger. But, of course, this doesn't stop her from starting to cry.

"Oh, Claire, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. Perfect. Everything is perfect."

He pulls her to himself, and it's just skin against skin and white around them, sunlight filtering through the sheets making everything bright.

"So it's a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes. God, Josh," she murmurs against his collarbone.

His fingers trace the map of her skin and she yearns to learn his landmarks all over again.

They spend the day like that, in bed, memorizing each other with the tips of their fingers.

At three in the afternoon she's starving and he orders in takeout.

While she's eating her egg roll she looks at him and doesn't want anything else, really. She just wants this day, second, to never find it's ending (was there even a beginning?) She wants to stretch these moments into paper-thin strips and lay her life out in youth and in love. She wants it to be like this forever.

He smiles and she can see he feels the same way.

_Oh, Josh_, her skin seems to whisper to him when it rustles against white cotton sheets._ I hope we have forever. I hope these days don't pass._

_I hope these seconds last. Even if it was only us, I think we'd be okay._

* * *

Reviews are appreciated(:

Last lines aren't song lyrics. Written by me.


	5. Blame Doesn't Fill Your Cracks

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I gave you guys an extra large update to make up for it. This one is really sad though, so. . . sorry?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from the clique. I own this plot, though. No stealing.**

* * *

_**January 9, 2022**_

"I'm so happy for you, Kris. Really."

Kristen turned to Claire, her eyes shining with tears. "Thanks, sweetie. I love everything you did to organize this. You know how crazy and hormonal I am right now. Nothing ever gets done. But this is just. . . perfect."

Claire enjoyed the appreciation, as she did organize the baby shower, and Kristen had wanted to invite lots of people. It kind of had been a pain in the ass, but Claire didn't really have much else to worry about and it was a nice distraction. And maybe she was fulfilling what she never got the chance to do. So what?

She watched one of her best friends lay a hand on Kristen's big belly, smiling contentedly. Twins. As if Kristen didn't already have exactly what Claire would have died for, she was having two babies. Claire had only asked to one. Just one.

Massie had bought the two gorgeous, designer cribs. They were a soft white, with the plushest blankets adorning each. Kristen was having two boys. The room was a beautiful, sweet, all blues and yellows and greens. She'd gone with the zoo animal theme, so giant, adorable giraffes and elephants were hand-painted on the walls. A monkey swung on the wall above the cribs, birds were painted on the ceiling.

It was all Claire could do not to cry.

Kristen, as much as she complained, looked amazing. While she complained about feeling fat and the size of a house, Claire only saw a woman who looking completely filled with the greatest thing they could give - life. While Kristen cried about always looking like a mess, Claire saw the healthy glow of an expectant mother. And when Kristen called her up grumbling about cravings, Claire could only think of the baby boys inside of her, eating every single weird thing their mother gobbled down.

And it wasn't only Kristen. Dylan was six weeks pregnant, a fact she'd joyfully shared at the beginning of the shower. She was dating the adorable guy who helped with her successful morning show. Claire could see it now; a little girl or boy, with Dylan's crazy red curls.

If jealously was money, Claire would be goddamn rich.

Instead of wallowing in self pity as she so desperately wanted to, though, Claire took it upon herself to start picking up all the pastel wrapping paper and begin folding the five-hundred onesies Kristen had received.

_It should be me_, she wanted to scream._ I should be having the baby! I was so close to having exactly what you have. _She hastily wiped a lone tear away and cut herself another piece of cake. It was false hope, wanting the sweetness of the cake to make her feel better, but it was all she had. For the longest time since she'd lost the baby, she could only dream about a dark-skinned little boy with deep brown eyes, or a tiny, dainty blonde girl, flying through the air in her father's outstretched arms. The mental picture never failed to put a lump in Claire's throat. That's what you get for hoping, she thought. That's what you get.

"Oh, Claire-baby. Are you okay?" Massie came up from behind her, rubbing Claire's back lightly. It was then that Claire felt as if she was going to explode with the sheer sadness of it all.

"I'm fine, Mass. It's just hard to see her get exactly what I thought I was gonna have. I was so excited. And then Josh wasn't excited, but I stayed positive and what did it get me? Nothing. My baby died," There is was. Although Claire had told Massie the story, she'd never laid it out so cleanly before. But that was exactly what had happened. A marriage already buckling under the pressures of careers and day-to-day stress was further pushed over the edge by the loss of a child that Josh had reacted negatively about. Massie just stroked Claire's hair softly.

"It's okay, Claire. You'll get it someday. I know you will." She sounded so sure, like because she said it, it would come true. But Claire wanted to tell her that words didn't guarantee anything. They didn't last long with her and Josh. In the end, disappointment was lurking around every corner. Even good people were brought down by unfortunate circumstances.

It broke Claire's heart when Josh hadn't been initially excited about the baby, but it hurt worse when she finally came back home and spotted the thick, deep, red that spread through her bath water.

He'd held her that night, as she cried, and she'd almost thought then that they could make it work, that their marriage didn't have to end at all. But of course, babies don't save marriages. No matter if you have the baby or dream of it, the only people who can save anything are them.

Claire nodded fiercely, determined to stay positive.

Massie was the only one who knew about the miscarriage, besides Josh and her mother.

She'd tried to pretend that it had never happened, tried to pretend that she could do back to how things were, not even considering a child, but she couldn't. It was impossible.

You can't wipe away memories, not even the ones that hurt to keep.

_**January 29, 2019**_

Josh will not put his Blackberry down.

It makes Claire want to say something, but she doesn't, because she doesn't want to be that girl who always claims that "they never just talk anymore" and "I feel like I'm second to your job", but she _does_ feel that way. He'll halt any conversation they're having to answer that fucking phone. She's started withholding sex, and she isn't sure if she's annoyed that he hasn't noticed yet, or that she probably wants the sex back more than he does. Whatever.

The point of all this is that he is becoming one of those annoying workaholic types of guys who always have a bluetooth clipped to their ear and you can never tell if they're on the phone or talking to you. More than once she's had an entire conversation with herself because she thought Josh was talking to her. Turns out he wasn't, and she was left stung and weirdly embarrassed.

Today is freezing, with temperatures dipping to the negative tens, and the windchill even lower. It snowed last night, big flat flakes that drizzled to the ground in a kamikaze mission. The wind whistled all night long. Now it's morning, and the house is warm and outside it's still too snowy to drive, because the plows in New York can be kind of slow. Josh dejectedly admitted that he won't go into work today.

Not that he should have gone in anyway, seeing as it's Sunday, but whatever. Claire is making pancakes.

She's trying so hard to make this a happy day. She already has stacks of bridal magazines that she wants to look through with Josh, and she has powdered sugar, because that's how he likes to eat his pancakes, and she has pulled out the old thick quilts of her grandmothers.

Okay, so she's excited. She loves snow days.

She even dug out her moms old, delicious hot chocolate recipe.

Josh is sitting at the table, smiling, looking adorable, when she sets the pancake down and pours him a glass of orange juice.

She's sitting across from his, grinning like a loon, happy that they can spend the day together, no distractions, no work, no shopping.

And then his phone rings.

He goes to reach for it as soon as he feels it vibrating from his pocket, and she drops her fork to the plate with a harsh clatter.

"Josh."

He pauses, hand in his pocket, and looks at her questioningly.

"One sec, baby, I just gotta take this."

Claire purses her lips, tries not to lose it.

"No, you do not have to take that call. You do not have to take every fucking call."

"Claire, it's one little work thing, and then I'll turn it off. I promise."

She's this close to throwing the plate of food on the floor and stomping off, but she holds it together. "Josh. Do not answer the phone. For the love of God, don't answer the fucking phone."

He scowls at her, and then pulls that godforsaken Blackberry out of his pocket.

Claire isn't sure what hurts more: the fact that he answers the phone, or the fact that he's looking at her like he hates her.

_**February 5, 2019**_

A week later their walking home from her favorite restaurant, a tiny little sushi place, and suddenly she starts crying.

"I hate your phone." She says suddenly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tries to wipe them away quickly, ashamed of completely losing it in front of him. He stops, pulls her close to him and sighs into her collarbone.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and then pulls it out of his pocket and throws it into the Hudson. She gasps and then giggles.

"Josh! What did you just do?"

"I'll get a new one in a few days, but until then it's just you and me, okay?" She looks away because she thinks he might be crying too.

"Okay."

They do a shitload of wedding planning together before he gets his new phone and she can't stop smiling. They've picked out the menu, the cake, the silverware, the reception hall, the music, and planned their entire honeymoon.

She's always wanted to go to Italy, and he's always wanted to take her.

_**June 10, 2019**_

"I'm so fucking lucky," he whispers huskily into her ear after he's kissed her and they said 'I do' and the priest said he was allowed to kiss her and then everyone cheered and now the flower girl is chucking flower petals and he's clutching her hand like it's a lifeline and her mom is crying in the front row and Massie is cheering the loudest and even Alicia is smiling and ohmigodohmigodohmigod.

Perfect is the most overused word and yet today she can't stop saying it, thinking it, living it.

Her dress is a whitest white, her cheeks rosy pink with excitement, her hair golden blonde in an intricate style of braids and blue ribbon that matches her eyes (something blue, right?)

Massie did her makeup and Dylan lent her a stylist to do her hair. When her and Josh dance together for the first time as a married couple she sees him swallow the lump in his throat and he smiles lazily as he wipes away a tear snaking down his cheek. She promises never to admit it to anyone that he actually cried. . . Kemp would never let him hear the end of it.

Before they leave for the hotel she catches a glimpse of him talking quickly into his cell phone, something about "closing the deal" and "big client" and she turns away because they've made it this far, right? It's not that big of a deal.

_**August 15, 2019**_

All day long he's been gone, working working working, but that's pretty normal. She isn't worried about that.

Claire spent the day at home after throwing up profusely as soon as she woke up. And then proceeded to puke and feel just generally like shit since.

The capped pregnancy tests are hidden under the sink, pink lines bright.

At first she'd been a little freaked out but now she can't stop pursing her lips in excitement, thinking of girl names and boy names and where they can move that will have another bedroom.

Tonight she's going to tell her husband that she's pregnant.

The word hasn't gotten old; not yet. Husbandhusbandhusband. She thought that maybe everything would seem normal and boring after they got married but instead it's like they just changed what they call each other. Husbandandwife.

He gets home late but she doesn't care. She's made him dinner and now she's sitting in the kitchen, bouncing in excitement and anxiety. He grins as soon as he sees her.

"What's going on, you?" His brown eyes are sparkling. She swallows and then sighs peacefully.

"I have something to tell you." Her smile is so big he can't help but laugh lightly.

"And what is that?" He sits down at the table and looks down at the plate of spaghetti. She watches, pleased, while he takes a huge bite.

"I was really sick this morning. . ."

He frowns. "That's too bad. Why are you smiling?"

Claire looks up at him shyly. "I'm pregnant."

He starts coughing, and then abruptly drops the fork down onto the plate. She watches quietly while Josh stands up, races to the cupboard and pulls out a glass. She tries to keep her smile in place while he fills it with water and takes a long sip, finally done with the coughing.

"Josh?"

He coughs again, then looks at her in surprise. "Pregnant? Are you sure?"

She nods. "Uh huh. I took three tests. All positive. I was sick all day." Maybe now he'll finally smile, for chrissake.

Josh grimaces. "That's great, baby. It's just. . . the timing isn't really good, is it?"

Claire narrows her eyes. "Why not?"

Josh shrugs, sits down next to her again, tries to put his hand on her knee. She scoots away.

"We just don't really have the, um, cash right now. I mean, your photography is going great and I'm doing really well but. . . big apartments are really expensive. I mean, this one is already way more than we should be paying. And we are really still trying to get established in our careers and I don't know. I'm sorry sweetie-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Claire, please."

"Don't. I just told you that I'm pregnant with your child and the only thing you can do is bitch about timing? When is the right time, Josh? Will it be the right time when you finally put down your fucking phone? Will it be the right time when you take a day off?" She's screaming now. He tries to say something then but she puts up a hand to stop him.

"Because if that's when it will be the right time, then I guess we'll never have a right time, huh? Or do we need more money? Because last time I checked you were obsessed with working because you were making so damn much!"

She storms off to the bedroom. He follows.

"Baby that's not what I'm saying. I was just trying to explain why I wasn't excited right away. You know I would love a kid."

She pauses and he finally realizes that she's grabbed her old red duffel bag and is stuffing pairs of jeans and underwear and socks and shirts into it.

"Claire, stop it."

She walks into the bathroom without saying anything. He stands there, watching her helplessly throws her toothbrush and shampoo into the bag. She's crying but she won't say anything. He follows her to the front door.

"I'm going to my mother's for a while." She looks at him with the saddest look he's ever seen. "Please don't call me."

And then she grabs her purse and the duffel bag.

And leaves.

_**August 18, 2019**_

It's almost nine when he gets home that night, and _finally_ he sees her shoes in the front hallway. Or rather, he almost trips over them but he doesn't really care, even though usually it bugs the crap out of him. At least she's home. It's been three whole days and even though it was really hard, he didn't call her. He was trying to listen as best as he could but fuck. . . it wasn't easy to go three days without hearing her voice.

The apartment feels really empty when she's not there, laughing, cooking, watching TV, wrinkling the sheets with him.

"Claire? Honey?" There's a light on at the end of the hall, from the bathroom.

He doesn't hear an answer.

"Claire? It's me. I'm happy your home."

The light seeps from under the bathroom door. He knocks gently, twice, before opening it softly.

"Sweetie, hi."

And then he sees.

Claire is in the bathtub, knees drawn up on her chest. Her eyes aren't meeting his; she isn't looking at him at all.

The water in the tub was clear at some point, but now all he sees is red.

He should be calling 911. He should be freaking out and getting help and _is it supposed to bleed that much when there's a miscarriage? _

"Oh, _Claire_. Baby." She's sniffling loudly and dangerously. He stares at the reddish-pink bath water and her big, sad eyes and then he leans down and pulls the drain so the water starts to disappear.

He reaches down and tries to pick her up and she leans into him, folding into the crook of his arm and releasing a loud, dry sob that makes his insides feel like stone and ice and Jesus Christ, did he do this?

"Claire. Claire, c'mon, we have to go to the hospital." She lets out another sob and he gets his arm under her knees and scoops her up. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry."

The doctor is really sympathetic and assures them that it wasn't their fault. It almost never is, he explains. Most miscarriages are a result of a chromosomal problem and nobody ever has any control of that. Josh nods and tries to let the words make him feel better but they don't and they never will. They get to leave that night and she's okay but she isn't. He doesn't make her walk to the car, he isn't even sure if she can anyway. Her legs are like thin sticks of jelly and her balance isn't normal.

When they get home she takes off everything and they he gives her his dress shirt and she slips it on and she cries some more under the sheets. He wraps her up in him but it's not enough, it's never enough.

He could admit that he hates himself but he isn't sure if hate even covers it.

She finally speaks the next morning but that doesn't mean that anything's okay. It's not.


	6. Fight My Battles, Tackle My Issues

**A/N: That's right, I updated TWO stories. I'm mega proud. I plan on wrapping this one up quickly, 'cause I gots other things running around my head and I'm feeling ambitious.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still haven't obtained rights to Clique. Weird, right? **

* * *

_**May 28, 2022**_

"Jim, I swear to God, you better remember to call catering and tell them that the vegetarian part of our meal is _vital_. They have fucked it up the last three times and our vegetarian client will rip my head off if he has to suffer through another empty lunch. You know he was pissed last time." Josh Hotz was sitting in his posh, extremely modern office, barking orders at his eager, young assistant through the small intercom on his desk. He didn't mean to be a complete asshole, but it happened. He couldn't help but be overly anal about their lunch orders. They were known for how well they treated their clientele, and he couldn't afford any more messy mistakes.

"Yessir," Jim said and then he disconnected. Seconds later, though, he was back on.

"Uh, sir, You have a visitor."

Josh rolled his eyes and went to reply.

"Jim, you know I can't be bothered. That meeting is in fifteen minutes and it won't last long, whoever needed to visit and couldn't call ahead of time can wait."

Silence. Then. . .

"I'm not so sure of that, Josh." He sounded nervous. Whoever wanted to see Josh clearly held more power than him.

"Who is it?" he asked innocently, yet secretly nervous it was his boss or something. Even though that was really out of character for his boss.

"It's your ex-wife, sir." Jim had barely finished his sentence before Claire was pushing the door to Josh's office open and smiling softly at him. Well, it was more of a grimace, but he chose to ignore that. Instead he shifted around nervously and hoped she didn't notice the wedding ring he still wore.

Okay, so he was pathetic, what was new?

"Hey, Josh." She looked good. Like all the stress in her body had left in the time they had not been together. It was a good look on her. She was still giving him that sort of grimace smile, and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Hey, Claire." He tried to hide the massive grin that threatened to overtake his face, but had a feeling he was failing. She was back. In his office!

"So I had something to tell you. . ." She sounded nervous, and he knew that she was because she wasn't looking at him. She was turned towards the giant aquarium that took up one wall of his office, her hand following the clownfish that swam in figure eights. She was smiling at it. She had always loved those damn fish.

God, he was so in love with her it hurt.

He wasn't sure how to respond to her, so he was quiet, letting her continue. She was preoccupied with following that fish with her finger. She had gotten her nails done, which was new, and she hadn't bitten her fingernails lately, also new. He was busy studying her hands while she played with the fish. And that's how he noticed the ring. But it wasn't the ring he had given her. It was brand-new.

"Jesus Christ, Claire, we haven't even been divorced for six months!" This could _not _be happening. Claire was already engaged to some guy? Wait, what if she wasn't engaged? What if she had married him already? What the fuck?

Claire had turned to him abruptly, eyes wide. She fiddled with the ring, something she'd always done, and he stared. She had this "Oh, shit" look on her face and he couldn't help but fall apart.

"You're married, aren't you?" he asked, fully prepared for the answer to be "yes". The way she was looking at him, she had already answered his question.

Her dark eyes became even darker as she glared at him. "No, I'm not married. And why are you so pissed? God, Josh, settle down." She huffed and sat herself down in the chair in front of his desk. Leaning forward and settling her gaze on him, she pursed her lips and frowned. She was fiddling with the ring again. He was torturing himself by staring.

"I actually came because I wanted to invite you." She paused. "I wanted to do it in person, I just thought it would be better." She then reached inside her purse, which she had set on the floor, and pulled out a cream-colored envelope. Josh took it from her hand slowly when she held it out to him, his eyes never leaving his.

"Who is it?" he asked, not bothering to open the invitation. She sighed.

"That's probably the main reason I wanted to tell you in person."

He stared into her eyes for thirty seconds straight before he leaned back in his chair and started breathing rapidly. He wondered what Jim would do if he started to hyperventilate. Probably bring in a paper bag for him to breathe into.

"You're marrying Cam Fisher, aren't you?" It hurt to even say the words, but he knew he was right. He had to be.

She didn't answer. The silence did it for her. He sucked in a breath and leaned forward.

"Wow, Claire." He looked pissed. "Just. . . wow. Didn't think you'd accept unhappiness this easily." At that she gasped and stood up defiantly.

"You are such an ass, Josh. Go fuck yourself. Seriously, I come here, I tell you in person, I give you a goddamn invitation. I invited you to my wedding because I wanted to be nice and you just. . . ugh!" She picked up her purse and when to leave, but he stood up quickly.

"Claire!" She stopped and turned around, eyes stormy, tears waiting to fall.

"I'm sorry." He sighed. "Consider this me RSVPing." He sat back down and tried his best to smile semi-friendly. "When's the wedding?" He looked down at the unopened invitation in his hands, trying not to punch something.

Claire took her hand off the door handle and tried to smile back.

"Thanks. And you could really just open the invitation." He looked back up at her and raised his eyebrows before she gave in. "Two weeks. June tenth."

And then she had left, with a smile.

Josh sat back in his chair, running his hands through his hair.

"Why did I just agree to this?"

And then, the intercom, which had been on this whole time, piped up.

"I'm sorry to hear about this new development, sir."

Josh turned towards it in shock and surprise.

"Fuck off, Jim."

_**August 18, 2021**_

When Claire arrived home at seven at night, she almost had a heart attack.

"Oh!" She jumped in surprise at the sight of her husband in the kitchen, hurriedly trying to put together dinner. Then, when the surprise died off, she smiled. He never got home this early, anymore. It was nice.

"Hey, babe. You want spaghetti? Because it's all I can make." He gives her a goofy grin and she walks over, kisses him. It seems like it's been a long time since she kissed him in the kitchen at seven at night. First of all, he was never home that early, and when she did see him, they were in bed. He always got in late and left early. In fact, it felt like lately all the contact she'd had with him was a kiss on her forehead, or her shoulder, as he was crawling into bed.

It sucked.

She'd talked to him about it, before. His workaholic-ness had been present for a long time, since they were engaged. At first it was answering his phone, or emailing coworkers at completely inappropriate times. Now, he was never home.

She wasn't sure if she was really happy about him making her dinner, or really sad. Today marked two years since he'd come home to find her in the tub, ready to die because she'd had a miscarriage.

It had hurt. It had really fucking hurt.

He was smiling at her, now, taking her bag and setting it by her shoes and taking her hand to lead her to the table. When she was finally bathed in the light of the kitchen, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, the way her smile no longer lit up the room.

They hadn't tried to get pregnant after the miscarriage. Instead, they both refused to speak about it. He'd tried to hard to get her to talk, to tell him what she was feeling, but she had crawled into herself. They had sex, but it was different. They watched TV, when he was home, but that was different, too, somehow.

She was angry at him for not being excited about the baby when it was a real possibility. He was angry with her because she didn't think he felt bad, at all. She would never have ever admitted it, and it only sat in the darkest parts of her mind, but secretly she sometimes wonders if him being upset about the pregnancy brought on the miscarriage.

Logically, probably not. The doctor had said _chromosomal issue_, and the words stuck in her brain, but there were times when she laid in bed at night, having dreamt about the baby they almost had.

And she almost hated him for it.

She would never say it. She hated herself for feeling this way, for blaming everybody when clearly she didn't have anything tangible to blame. It was nobody's fault, and yet she felt as if it was easier if she could pin the problem on someone or something.

He, on the other hand, sometimes hated himself. He hated that he couldn't get her to talk about what had hurt her so badly. He hated that she retreated into herself after she lost the baby. Sometimes he wanted to ask her why she had pinned so many hopes on the child they were never even sure they had, and then again sometimes he hated himself for feeling this way.

He hated that he couldn't do anything right.

When he was at home, she was sad and nothing felt right, and when he was at work, he felt guilty for not being there. He couldn't get her to talk to anyone else about what happened, and she lashed out at him when he admitted that he'd told Massie. Someone needed to know, right?

She was hurting and she wouldn't let him help her. That sucked. That sucked really bad.

Tonight was supposed to be all about new beginnings. When she saw the dinner laid out, she was touched, and when she saw his Blackberry, sitting next to his plate, she sighed wearily.

What was new?

He had even lit a little candle. It was cinnamon scented and completely not right for the occasion, but she could help but smile at his effort.

He seemed nervous and fluttered around her, getting her a glass of wine and kissing her on the cheek before they started eating.

She was eating slowly, waiting for something, anything to happen, and then it did.

"Claire, I have a proposition." He was grinning. She narrowed her eyes.

"What? What's up?"

She wasn't sure what she expected, just that something was about to come to a head. She was scared.

"I was headhunted. I got a job offer." He's still smiling.

"Oh." She sets her fork down and smiles, then. "Well, tell me about it!"

He was smiling more when he began. "It's better pay and we could get a better apartment. It could be a fresh start for us, you know?" He suddenly looked nervous again. "We'd have to move though."

She looked confused. "Is it in Boston or something?" She honestly couldn't imagine being too far from New York. She loved this city like nothing else.

Josh took a deep breath. "It's in L.A."

Claire was coughing then, a sputtering mess. "What? Los Angeles?" She looked shocked. She looked like she would never in a million years move to L.A. Josh could feel it slipping away.

Truthfully, he had no interest in this, but at the same time, they needed something. Something had to change.

"Josh, I love you, baby, but I can't move to L.A. I love New York. I have my job." She looked like she felt really, really, bad. Josh smiled.

"Um, don't worry about it. Really, I just think we need. . . something. Claire, I don't know what's happening to us, but something needs to change or I don't know if we'll make it." There. Honesty. It was all out there.

He had never been so brave in his entire life.

Claire simply stared back at him, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

Josh sighed. "Baby, I don't know, really. You just don't talk to me. I know you said no already, but I really think you need to talk to someone. I don't think you've recovered from the mis-"

"Stop it!" She stood up, eyes getting teary, face angry. She hated when he came close to saying the word. If he just didn't say it, if they just didn't talk about it, it could be like it never happened. "Just stop it! Just because I don't want to move to L.A. doesn't mean that you need to act like something's wrong with me!"

Josh was standing, then, too. "You know it's not abut that, Claire. We don't talk anymore. You _clearly _aren't getting enough sleep. I just think you need to talk to someone, or see a doctor, or something. I don't know what more I can do." He was ready to get on his knees and clasp his hands together. He was desperate to have his wife back.

Claire clenched her teeth. "We don't talk? Well excuse me, maybe I should point out that you're never _home_. When are we supposed to talk, huh, Josh? And as for sleep, I surely get more than you do, unless you sleep at work. I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

Josh ran his hands through his hair, desperately trying not to pull it out.

"I would be home more, Claire, but things are just different between us. I don't know what to do, or what to say, or anything. I wish you were happy again."

He had known that she had taken pills in college for depression that was seasonal, but had since stopped. For a while everything seemed perfect, but after the miscarriage, she had been pushed deep back into a dark place.

"Maybe you should started taking your medicine again." He bit his lip, knowing that a storm was coming.

"You can't diagnose me, Josh!" She knew he was talking some sense, but it was hard for her to face that she would have to fight that battle again. God, everything just. . . sucked.

"Claire, I'm sorry." Josh stepped forward, and when she didn't retreat, he took another step. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and then he pulled her into him. She was crying. She was taking long, ragged breaths and sobbing into his shirt.

"Let's go to bed," he whispered and she nodded.

She was still crying when she slid into the covers beside him. It was all because he was right. She was broken. She was depressed. She needed to do something about it, instead of wallowing in self-pity like she had done when she was a teenager. She was an adult, and she didn't want to need the help of her husband, but she did.

"I love you," she said to him before he fell asleep, and she meant it. She really did.

He held her that night. And the night after that. He was still working a lot, but she called the doctor a week later. Three days after that, she was back on her antidepressants, trying to look up.

She had thought everything would mend itself.

* * *

**It's not exactly flowers and bunnies and rainbows, I know. It will get a little better, I promise. I mean, Closh will happen. **

**Anyway, this chapter was actually fun to write because I was able to include depression, a subject I know very well. It's real, and it sucks, and you had to know that leading up to the divorce would be a little messy.**

**Reviews are immensely appreciated.**


	7. Start at the Ending, My Dear

**A/N: AHHH! The last chapter! I don't know yet about an epilogue, but I'm listing this as complete. Maybe I'll write one, maybe I won't.**

**A few things about this chapter: instead of it being like the others, with the present being first and the past being second, it's the other way. You get the past, and then the present. The past part is sad, and the present part isn't, and I just didn't want to end this on that kinda note, you know?**

**Anyway, this chapter relates the first few chapters in about a million ways, and I've been planning it forever, so if you wanted to re-read those, it would really enhance the whole thing. 4,000 words, you guys! I don't think I've ever done that before!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Clique, or The Real Housewives, which I firmly believe will still be airing in 2022. **

* * *

_**November 5, 2021**_

He hasn't had a conversation with her in weeks.

After the big fight in August, she started taking her antidepressants again and he started coming home earlier, but it didn't take long for him to start working late and for her to stay silent and angry all over again.

When he gets home, at midnight, she isn't there. He can see her duffel bag is gone and figures she went to her mother's, or Massie's, and she didn't leave a note. He guesses this is like the last time and how she didn't want him to call so he doesn't, just decides that she'll talk to him when she wants to. Frankly, she's been so silent, hasn't been trying, that he's just exhausted and can't do it anymore. Well he _can_, he just _won't_. He wants things to get better. And yeah, he could probably be better about the working, but whatever, if _she_ tried, _he_ would try.

Nobody tries anymore.

One day later, she hasn't called, Massie hasn't called, so he tries not to worry. When she left last time, after she told him she was pregnant, she was gone for three days. If this gets any longer, he'll call her. Until then, he'll give her space.

Two days later, he forgets to shave, forgets to wear a tie, forgets to eat lunch. Something doesn't feel right.

Three days later, she isn't home. He stares at his phone for two hours in his office, not working, not doing anything.

Not breathing.

On the fourth day, he gets the papers.

She cites irreconcilable differences as the reason. He wonders if she could have said anything else, if there's a category like _she got a miscarriage and I worked too much and it ruined us_ but there isn't. He isn't even sure if she'd admit this is what happened if she was asked about it, anyway.

_**December 12, 2021**_

He hasn't seen her at all. He wears a suit he's never worn before and it feels wrong on his skin. He feels like he's underwater during the whole thing. She won't look at him, taps her foot, tells the man that of course she's okay with the terms of the divorce.

Josh signs first and can't look at her and his hands are shaking. She bolts the second she's dotted the 'i' in '_Claire'. _

He goes home to the empty apartment and the first thing he sees when he walks in is the picture of them on their honeymoon, taped to the fridge, and he sits down at the kitchen table and cries.

He doesn't know that she's drunk at a bar across town, or that she'll be crying soon, too, or that an hour from now she'll give her wedding ring to Massie and tell her that she never wants to see it again.

_**June 9, 2022**_

Josh is crashing her wedding.

Okay, crashing is probably the wrong word. He's going down a day early to see how things are going, and to say hi to Judi, because who doesn't love her?

Also, he was invited. So this is not crashing. Not crashing at all.

If she asks why he's there early, he'll just tell her he's checking up on the small investment office they recently set up in Westchester for retirees who didn't like making the drive into the city. It wasn't a total lie. He was going to stop by and see how things were going. For an hour. Or something. Probably.

Anyway, he's taking Jim with him because Jim probably has nothing better to do and whatever, Josh feels like he shouldn't complain because he's being paid overtime. So whatever. Also, Josh never said anything about the time he caught Jim tweeting about his annoying boss so he owes him this.

The year after Claire graduated high school, her parents finally left the Block Estate and settled in a house that wasn't too far from there. The lawn was almost as big as the Block's and they had a pool, and a garden that was professionally kept. It was an obvious choice for the wedding. Josh can still remember her dress, her hair, her toenail polish.

Fuck. How is he supposed to go to this wedding? Especially since the location was "The Lyons' Estate"? How did she feel okay with having it at the same place? The same fucking wedding arch was going to be there, too, he can feel it. The one he and her dad put together two days before the wedding while she stood a few feet away, yelling about symmetry and laughing at Josh as he pretended to kill himself with the screwdriver.

On the drive in, Jim is quiet. Which is nice, because as soon as he parks across the street from Claire's parents' house, he's bombarded by a certain Massie Block.

"Josh! Ohmigod, it's been awhile." She hugs him tightly and when she pulls away, he can see she's trying not to cry. He frowns.

"What's wrong, Mass?" His stomach is turning, like he knows whatever she is going to say isn't exactly catastrophic but it will still suck. She sniffs, looks down.

"I tried, Josh. I tried to tell her this was a mistake. I really didn't think she'd actually do it." She sniffs again, won't look at him from either guilt or shame or something. His chest hurts.

Josh shrugs. "What mistake? Do what?"

Massie swallows, looks him in the eye. "Marry Cam Fischer. I mean really, how can she marry him? In 2022? How is that even okay?" He snorts out a laugh and sighs.

"I don't think I'm gonna get the girl, Mass." He realizes at that moment just how fucking true it is, just how this isn't a movie or a romance novel and he's not going to get her back. He isn't going to stand up when the priest says to 'speak now or forever hold your peace' and he isn't going to do anything because this is real life, and sometimes it sucks.

Massie lets a stray tear fall down her cheek before she folds her arms across her chest. "I don't - um, Josh." She looks away again. He can't stand it.

"What? Spit it out." It comes out harsher than he meant it to be but he can't help it. He knows what she's going to tell him and he almost wants to walk away before she does.

"I think you're right."

* * *

"What are you doing here? Did you even open the invitation? Didn't I tell you June tenth?" Claire shoots the questions at him rapid-fire, not even giving him a chance to answer. Her foot is tapping in a cheap Old Navy flip-flop and her hair is in a messy bun. She fans herself with one hand, and he notices with a grin that she isn't wearing makeup. He likes that.

"Oh, gee, sweetums, I'm so glad to see you too." He smiles.

For a second she smiles back but then she's back to being annoyed with him when Cam appears behind her, hand on her shoulder, her neck. She shrugs him off, it's too warm for this.

"What's Josh doing here? Also, who _is_ that guy?" he asks her, acting like he's trying to whisper but obviously talking loud enough for anyone to hear. She rolls her eyes because she knows this.

"I don't know. What _are_ you doing here? And really, you brought Jim. How nice." This is directed at him. She doesn't even try to whisper.

"Work. New branch set up in Westchester. Thought I'd drop by, kill two birds with one stone. Jim is just, you know, assisting. Because he's my assistant."

Claire rolls her eyes again, only this time at him, instead of Cam, and he wants to hang his head. "Working, really? Gosh, I'm surprised." Her tone is flat. He almost flinches.

"Yeah, well. . ." Thankfully he's cut off by Judi's enthusiastic greeting.

"Josh!" She beams, coming over to hug him tightly and kiss him loudly on the forehead in that Judi way of hers. He grins from ear to ear the whole time. Judi is awesome.

"Hey, Jude. How are you?" He smiles shyly, it's been way too long.

She frowns and narrows her eyes. "Oh, Josh, I see what you're doing, changing the subject to me. _I_ am doing just fine. You on the other hand. . . you are skin and bones, young man. What's gotten into you?" At this point she's pulling him away from Claire and Cam, who are locked in a heated debate about picking up a dress and meeting one last time with the caterer and_ What is Josh doing here? _And he tries to kind of listen, but at his point Judi has brought him to the kitchen and is serving up a hamburger with coleslaw and cold pasta salad and a glass of lemonade. Typical Lyons' summer lunch, he thinks. The yard is bustling, they probably felt the need to feed everybody. There are two gardeners perfecting the rows of flowers along the house, a woman in clothes entirely too warm directing several young men about chair placement, and another one yelling about centerpieces. Todd is being the same old Todd, on the edge of the pool with a blonde Josh hasn't met. Two dogs run around, Massie is saying something into her phone about the favors for the guests, and Kristen has just arrived, two little boys, still babies, in the double stroller, unseen because the cover is up to keep the sun away. Chaos.

He eats, to make Judi happy, and talks about his job. When she asks about his personal life all he can do it swallow and shrug. He glances down, just for a second, but he isn't wearing the ring. She must have noticed the tan-line from the ring that was there just this morning, though, because when she looks back into his eyes her face is a little sad.

Claire and Cam come barging in a second later.

"Dad has one car, mine is in the shop, Todd lent his to Nathan. . ." Claire is explaining this to Cam as he frowns and nods, not really paying much attention. She is looking angrier by the second. She turns to Judi. "We have _one_ car available, and I need my dress picked up and somene needs to meet the caterer. Both at three. In half an hour." Her eyes are angry, her shoulders tense.

Judi seems to ponder things. "Well, we can call your father and see if he can-"

"He's an hour away, mom."

The room is silent.

"I can give you a ride," Josh offers. Everyone turns to him.

Claire's eyes flash for a second and then she glances at Cam, who shrugs. "Sure. I'll meet the caterer."

It's awkward for a moment and then Claire grabs her purse and smiles apologetically. "Do you mind leaving right now? They are closing early, I really need my dress. It's kind of important, you know, for this whole wedding thing." She smiles.

Josh shrugs. "Whatever you say, Claire. You say the dress is important, I say _psh_, it's _only_ your wedding." He's joking, and his smile shows it. For a full two seconds they just stare at each other, grinning like fools, until Cam clears his throat.

"Better get going, you guys." And then he turns around, so oblivious to what is going on that Claire has to mask her annoyance. Josh follows her out the door, giving Judi a wink as he leaves the air-conditioning for the hot summer heat.

When they get in his car, he starts it and immediately cranks the cold air. Claire opens the window, as always, and then proceeds to act like she owns the place and opens the sunroof, too. He gets to the radio before she does, though, and gets to a station that's playing Nickelback.

She fidgets, pretends she doesn't notice or care. Like Nickelback isn't her least favorite band of all time, like this song isn't a million years old.

Two choruses in about being a big rockstar, she cracks and changes the station.

* * *

When they return, Cam is smiling proudly and the gardeners have finally worked something out with the wedding coordinators. The long rows of white flowers wind in spirals around the arch. Claire grins when she sees it, runs ahead to hug Cam and give him a kiss. Josh is carrying the white garment bag with it slung over his arm, walking stealthily to the house because Claire was adamant that Cam couldn't see the dress until the wedding.

He'd promised to make sure Cam didn't see it, unable to do anything but humor her. He remembers that he didn't see the dress until about twenty minutes before she walked down the aisle. He'd said she looked beautiful, and she almost started crying because the surprise was ruined.

To make up for it he'd told her that if he had seen her for the first time when she was walking down the aisle, he would have passed out in front of everybody from shock. It was stupid, but she'd laughed, and when she really was walking down the aisle, he threw a hand on his forehead and pretended to swoon.

Christ, she was beautiful.

Her smile was so huge it made his own face hurt, and he wasn't embarrassed that when it was all over, he had a few tears. She wore these little white sandals with a low heel, toes peeking out, hair in those big curls he'd run his hands through that night in the hotel. Sometimes it makes him want to cry that something so wonderful and perfect turned out the way it did.

Judi is standing by the sink when he walks in, Massie's hand on her back.

"Josh," Massie says quickly, like she's surprised he's in there. He holds up the garment bag with Claire's wedding dress in it and shrugs, like '_what do I do with this_'? Judi abruptly walks over and takes it, leaving through the door to the living room.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, concerned. Judi didn't even look at him. Massie frowns.

"She's just as disappointed as the rest of us." Massie won't look at him.

"Disappointed about what? Did something go wrong?" He's really confused. Everything seems pretty perfect. . .

Massie finally makes eye contact. "Yeah, something went wrong. _You_ did. We're disappointed in you, Josh." She shakes her head. "And her. We're mostly disappointed in her. Judi wants her to be happy, but Cam Fischer. . . he's just not it, you know?" Her hands are in tight fists.

Josh is taken aback. "Listen, Mass, why do you think I'm here? I was going to try and fix things, it's just. . . I thought she needed space. She really surprised me with this shotgun wedding, don't you think?"

Massie nods quickly, sighing loudly. "I know. She surprised us all. She just. . . she's trying to replace you, you know. It'll always be you."

For the first time since he first saw the divorce papers, her signature on the dotted line, her new wedding ring. . . Josh feels hope.

* * *

He leaves right after that, realizing he left Jim in the hotel room to do whatever he wanted to do and he doesn't have any business being here. As he's getting in his car, he hears Claire saying something obscene. Cam throws his hands in the air and yells about how _it's not a big deal, what's wrong with a change in the pasta sauce, really?_ Claire screams back that her grandmother is_ severely_ _allergic to rosemary, you fucker, that's why it matters._

Josh tries not to smile as he gets into his car, but he does, of course.

Seven episodes of The Real Housewives and one viewing of The Departed later, he's bored. It's only 8:30, and he wants to see Judi again, and possibly Jay, if he's around. Also Dylan might be over there because she's a bridesmaid and she's pretty cool.

So he goes back over, like the pathetic doesn't-wanna-be-divorced loser that he is.

Massie swings the door open and smiles widely before tugging him inside roughly by his collar.

"Oh, jeez, Josh, you're here." Her eyes are bright. She's holding a wine glass and he can tell she's probably had at least three or four before this. "Thank God, Claire is being so annoying." She slams the door closed and tugs him into the living room, which holds a roomful of drunken bridesmaids and debris from recently completed centerpieces. Massie pulls him close so she can whisper in his ear.

"She's been talking about Cam this whole time. Blah blah blah green and blue eyes, blah blah blah what a jackass for the catering thing, blah blah blah married." Massie rolls her eyes. "It's like, can you just shut up already?" She takes down the wineglass with one swig. "Want some, Joshie?"

Josh shakes his head, wonders why he came here. Dylan waves him over.

"J-man, baby-doll, hey!" She isn't drinking, her belly much bigger than the last time he saw her, which was a long time ago. She's pregnant, he realizes. He wonders if Claire is jealous or pissed or happy for her. Probably all three.

Claire looks at him blankly but he can tell she's stone-cold sober. Which surprises him.

She's always been a sucker for white wine, right after Long Island iced teas. Those are Claire's kryptonite.

He engages in friendly conversation and strangely, nobody asks him why he's there, not even Claire. When he walks into the kitchen to get a glass of water, he finds himself walking out the door, sitting on the step.

It's a warm night, the sound around him quiet except for the cicadas, the crickets, the hum that seems to always exist on summer nights.

The night before the wedding, he and Claire escaped the party inside and sat here, right on this step, and listened to the night. She leaned her head on his shoulder and they both finally took a breath that they hadn't taken in what felt like months. He didn't have his phone on him and she was wearing those ancient pink Chucks and everything was just so. . . perfect.

Now that he's sitting here, in the same place, he realizes he can't do it. He can't watch her get married, he can't stay in Westchester tonight, he can't get through the rest of his life. He can't do it but he can't get her to come back either, and that basically means he can't do anything, ever, and it just sucks.

He walks back in to say goodbye and makes the drive back to New York. His whole body is tired, his head hurts, he isn't sure about anything. He doesn't think, he drives. And that's how he gets to the Met.

Josh gets out of his car, takes in the quiet around him, which is weird because this is New York, it's _never_ quiet. Maybe his head is drowning out the noise that normally seems to follow him everywhere. His phone, his assistant, his boss, his idiotic friends, his own head. Just so much noise, all the fucking time. He's thinking about this as he walks up the steps, to the top. He sits down and closes his eyes.

It's funny, when he thinks about it later, that his head made all the noise disappear, everything perfectly peaceful, but he still heard the engine of her car.

Her soft, steady footsteps as she walks up.

* * *

She's exhausted.

Josh is sitting at the very top, and she realizes just how romantic-comedy this whole this is, going back here, just knowing that's where he would be. She should be rethinking everything up to this point, but she isn't.

He's staring at her when she reaches him, (only she doesn't reach him, she's five steps from the top) like she isn't quite real, like he really doesn't think he's imagining her. She smiles.

"Right here, right?" she asks and he doesn't have to clarify.

"Um." He squints, looks to both sides of himself. "Not quite." He stands, walks down so he's three steps from the top, shifts himself so he's directly in the middle of the steps. He looks up, the moon high and very yellow in the sky, and sees her, standing in front of him, her worn out jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes a little red.

He grabs her by the hand and pulls her so she's against him, kissing him on the mouth. He can taste her, feel her, hear the thumping of her heart like it's his own, roaring in his ears.

When the kiss is over she sits down next to him and leans her head on his shoulder. They both take a breath, like they haven't in a long, long time.

Claire turns to him, lets out a shaky breath. "I miss you."

Josh hums, smiles sadly. "I miss you too."

Claire shakes her head, like she's frustrated with herself, and tries again. "No, I mean. . . I missed you. Like, before we even got divorced, I missed you." She grips his arm. "I thought that after I served you the divorce papers, you would do something, like fix things, or tell me no." She sighs. "And even though I still wish you had, I know now that it was unfair. I put a lot of pressure on you."

He's got his hand on her knee, lips pursed. "I'm sorry. About everything. I can't tell you enough times, how sorry I am."

They sit for awhile, just like that.

"Don't be sorry. Let's just not be sorry, okay? Let's just. . . start over. And communicate, the way we should have a long time ago."

He nods, but is confused. Does fresh start mean he can't say he loves her? Is this like the beginning of dating, or something?

She answers him before he can ask. "I love you," she whispers, and she sounds a little sad. A lot of things are running through her mind, like whether or not things will really be different, or how will they deal with the remarriage (wedding, or quiet court house date?) And Cam's face, when she told him she couldn't do it. The tears that ran down her mother's face, the smile she didn't try to hide. Everything is rushing at her. She needs to go to sleep, or kiss him again, or something that will clear her head.

Their fingers link with each other, fingers tightening, smiles shy. She feels like she's in high-school again, even though the past few months are about as adult as you can get.

"I love you too," he says, and it feels funny on his tongue, but delicious at the same time, like cotton candy.

They eventually stand up, stretch, that goofy smile on his face. They get into their respective cars with an unspoken agreement to just go back to the apartment that he still lives in, that they shared.

They giggle like teenagers when they get inside the lobby, feeling like they have to whisper in the elevator, the hallway leading to the door. It clicks open and he tosses the keys on the kitchen table and they make a loud clanging noise. She turns and shushes him.

"Why?" he asks, but he's whispering. She giggles.

"I don't know." Still whispering. "Let's go to bed."

They undress quickly, casually, like their married again. He tosses her a t-shirt and she slips it on without saying anything. They crawl under the sheets and she swears, she can smell their marriage in there. She can feel it, pressing against her. She breathes it in, wants to leave.

The apartment holds a lot of memories, some good, some bad. Even at the end, when everything was falling apart, they still had good times. Times when he'd brush her hair back for her and kiss her shoulder, times when one of them would say something and it would be so funny they would laugh until tears ran down their cheeks, moments like the time she walked into the kitchen when he was coming home, late at night, in just one of his shirts, and they ended up having sex on the kitchen table.

The other times, though, they sucked. Not talking, resenting, hating, blaming.

"We need to move outta here," she whispers finally, against his chest. They haven't had sex, haven't even mentioned it, just made out a bit, and she really realized just how high-school this is. She isn't sure how to get back to it, if it will feel the same it always has, which wouldn't be a bad thing, if it'll be familiar or different, somehow. She isn't sure and it scares her but it isn't bad. They can do this, she thinks.

Josh nods, swallows. "I don't know why I haven't yet." He sighs. "You were here, so I didn't leave. I think that's why."

She doesn't say anything, just presses her lips to his chest, splays her fingers across his stomach, breathes when he rubs his hand in circles on her back.

They sleep, and they breathe, and it feels like they've never done it before.

* * *

**C'mon, people, you know you have to review!**

**XOXO**

**You know you loved it,**

**Sara;)**


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